Letters I'll Never Send

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You. That’s all I’ve known for years now. It feels like we met when time itself was only just beginning. Your laugh has been in my dreams for forever and a night.

As I remember, you were the first to fall, into the pool of our desires. I was confused, when you started to flirt with me. It angered me that you were destroying our friendship, but you mesmerised me, with your flirty words and how different you were. Finally you won. I fell head over heels like you did, out of desire and straight into love. With someone like you, of all people.

The next years were a haze, flashing and zipping by us too quick. We started going out, and I’ll never forget our first date, when you looked deep into my eyes and told me ‘I knew somehow loving you would lead to this.’ Oh, how relevant that’s become to our relationship.

Our old friends watched from the side lines. I heard them saying ‘finally’ and ‘he stopped denying it then’. Yes, I guess it’s true. I stopped denying it. I love you.

Those years of happiness were perfect and special. High on love, I asked you to marry me. I thought my heart would burst with love and joy when you accepted. It was beautiful. My friends, your friends, happy for us, laughing, arranging parties, arranging our wedding. Perfection, that was you.

Married life was happily quiet and blissfully normal for us. Our friends had always, even back when I denied my love for you, compared us to a married couple, and now we were. But then it all changed, and you left me asking: why?

I was so shocked and broken. I didn’t know anything was wrong until you came home one day and took everything that was ever yours. Except me. You looked at me, dead into my eyes and said ‘I never want to see you again. I want nothing to do with any of this.’ And that was that. My whole life walked away, while I stood in shock and watched my heart crumble.

You never told me why, and I could never ask you. Respecting your wishes, I’ve staid away. Ignored our old friends until they’ve forgotten me. But why? You’d always been there, one way or another. Now you’re not. I hate that.

I wonder where you went to, what you’re doing, how you are, and why you left.

Things I could never ask, written in this letter, I can never send, to you.